A Grain Tune

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I'll pull to the grain,
As my hands stroke this ivory.
Hoping to obtain,
This happiness that I'm lacking.
As I strain to tell,
Everything that I leave inside.
I'll soothingly use my fingertips,
To say everything I couldn't with my lips.
I'll make this paper transfer,
To lose anything I have left stored inside.
And all these emotions supply freedom,
For all the things I've every feared,
The only sound I'll have to hear,
Is when the ivories cry my song,
These notes mimick emotions
I held all along.